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My sexual assaults story is uncommon for most and hard to most people to grasp. Who would believe that children are capable of knowing and doing such gruesome things to person? Most children are not like this and their experiences are different. It first happened when I was 8 years old while, my abuser was 7 years old at the time. I remember the abuse happening gradually as we build our friendship. It first started with us doing typical kid stuff like us playing together and joking around. And one day, he asked me to play this new game with him. I said sure. I thought it would be one of those silly jokes stunts of his. Instead he pulled my pants down and rubbed his private part against my bottom. It was really uncomfortable moment for me since, I grew-up in a strict Christian-based family. I have never witness anyone on television or heard of the things he was doing to me. Afterwards, I remember me being shy to tell anyone and feeling like I would get into trouble. So I remained quiet. How would any parent react if you see children engaging in sexual behavior? Wouldn't you automatically assume it was the oldest child to teach someone this behavior? This went on for almost 2 years. His behavior became more advance and his request got more weirder. One time, he begged me to drink his pee directly from his part. I told him no. And he stomped across the room mad. He kept persisting and demanding that I try it. Eventually, I gave in but, I told him only from a cup. It was the most dehumanizing experiences of my life. It was not long afterwards, that my father caught us. I remember me trying shove the boy off of me. And telling him that my dad was coming and he kept going harder and harder. I guess he thought I was lying to convince him to get off of me. He wouldn't stop until my father walked into the room.

There are pieces of different stories that fit my situation. I’m a successful executive and I am so embarrassed that I ignored all the red flags and got myself into this mess. I feel so unworthy, a combination of childhood emotional neglect, sexual assault as a teenager, and a 25 year marriage full of emotional neglect and infidelity. I even feel unworthy of putting myself in the same category as the survivors on this page, like my story isn’t as valid. He is a sexual assault survivor himself; he was molested by an older female cousin when he was little. That was part of the attraction at first. I thought we understood each other’s pain and would help each other heal what still remained. At first the attention felt like caring, like someone finally gave a damn. The requests to text where I was at all times, wanting to track my location and share his, wanting to talk or FaceTime all night on the phone, even sleeping with the call still going, next to me, when we weren’t together. Now I know it was about control and a deep lack of trust. I have learned over time to never look around at a restaurant or I will be accused of staring at another man. I have unfriended most of my male friends on social media and I am afraid to post anything in case one of the remaining ones comments. He demands that I show him any communication from any man on social media. He wants to know my work meeting schedule and gets upset if I don’t text him back right away. One time, he was out of town and my phone wasn’t plugged in correctly so the battery died during the overnight FaceTime call. I panicked when I woke up and realized what had happened, and he was furious with me. He wanted to know if I had cheated between 4 am and 8 am when the phone was dead. And I haven’t asked him to leave yet. I don’t know why. We have almost broken up several times, and every time I believe him that it will be different. It won’t be different. I am exhausted and I don’t recognize myself anymore. I am too ashamed to tell my friends or family the extent of it, although they know things are off.

When I was 7, I started being sexually abused. This wasn’t by a family member, it was my grans second husband. It all stopped when I was 12, when we moved a few miles away and he didn’t visit as much. When I was 17, I was having therapy for other things, it eventually came out then. They helped me decide how I was going to tell my mum. They also said I should prepare for family members to not believe me. I thought, you don’t know my family. They all stick up for each other. Well so I thought. My mum never wanted to talk about it. I understand now that was due to guilt, she had her own mental illnesses to deal with. My sister, well she turned against me for a few years. Saying I was lying, I tried to ruin my grans marriage with my lies, threatening to beat me up. My sister even tried to prove I was lying buy having him watch her new born baby whilst she went and done his food shop. When this man died, it got worse. My sister and aunt said they can’t grieve over him cause of the lies I said about him. Saying I’m evil and not wanting me near her child incase I do stuff to her. I had cousins asking “what exactly is it he did to you? My gran saying “he’s not a pedophile”. All this almost destroyed me. It was worse than the sexual abuse I had went through as a child. I decided I wanted away from my family. So I enrolled in college at 23, at 27 I was qualified and got straight into a job, I had been saving through college, so managed to move onto my own place pretty quickly. Now 33 years old and looking back I often think, did all that really happen. I’ve since moved further away from my family, Doing this has helped me stay away from their drama and only visit on occasions. They’re a lot better now, but I’d still rather keep my distance. I’m in a good place mentally. I’ve got great friends and built a good life for myself. My advice to anyone going thought it. Prepare yourself for family not to believe you. Only talk about it to people you trust and only when you want to talk about it. Don’t feel you need to explain yourself to anyone. The best thing my therapist said, no matter what you did or didn’t do, it wasn’t your fault. You were only a child.

I have been stalked by my neighbor for over 6 years. His so called drug of choice is being a peeping Tom and voyeur. I feel visually raped by this man. He has avoided being held accountable for decades. I stood up for my rights and did what I could to stop him before I moved to another state. He hasn't stopped stalking and being a predator. I have witnessed him stalking others and being a peeping Tom but since I wasn't feeling heard or taken seriously by the mountain deputies, I didn't report him doing what I witnessed him doing to others, just what he was doing to me. I stayed focused on my personal legal system journey, which seemed to only compound the trauma and issues, since every step of the way, I was victim blamed and shamed, while he remained free to continue his predatory ways. I haven't given up and I won't. I may be the only one with the most evidence and loudest voice he will ever encounter. He is 72 yo and shows no signs of stopping so I will not stop until he is held accountable. Thank you for your website and all you do to support people like me on their journey towards healing and connection. I feel supported and heard already by spending time here.

This is not easy and I am now sure more than ever that others felt the same way. While you can feel you are in it alone there are so many many many stories that are the same. I was at such a tender age. Innocent and blameless. I never knew that i was being taken for granted by the very person who said they love me. They were my family member. Little did I know i would continue to move forward in my life in a manner that only God could heal. Now I sit hear as a full grown adult after going through emotional, physical, psychological abuse by so many that claims to love me. I continued to protect them all because I never told my side of the story. It all ends today. No one else gets to take advantage of my weakness. I was in a long time relationship that started as your typical relationship just beautiful. All of the nice things occurred flowers, candy, gifts. As time went on and things were more settled the take over begun. The insecurities continued to grow and grow. Around year 2 is when the physical abuse started. He had me right where he wanted me. My family tried to intervene but I thought I was in LOVE. Yea I said that 4 letter word that can cause so much pain. Yes I stayed and that was the end to most of my relationships with my family. The relationship with he and I would span another 10 years before the END was the END. I tell you it was not easy at all. One thing I did learn is that most people that should be for you will call you all kind of names stupid, dumb, etc. so much so until you start to believe it. Never give up on yourself.

Stories have a beginning, middle, and end. I don’t know if mine started when I was 7 and the little boy in class silently slid his hands over my body, while my teacher sat and did nothing. She was “waiting for me to speak up”. Maybe it started with my father, years later when he mistook me for my mother as I snuck into their bed after a nightmare. But I know that the teenage boy who found me the summer before I started high school firmly cemented a life of trauma. When he showed interest in me, a 14 year old who had never even held a boys hand, I was confused. This 17 year old, all cigarette smoke and angst, staring at me and seeing something mature enough to spend time with. I pushed down the disgust as he touched me for the first time. Shoved away the sinking feeling with his first kiss. Put on a happy face when he declared we were dating and told everyone I was happy. I kept that same mask on as the bruises started. And he wrapped his thick callused fingers around my A cup, barely developing chest and squeezed until he could pretend I wasn’t still a child. I hid the finger prints he left every time he touched me, even as I privately tried to convince myself they were normal, wondered why my mother did not carry the same bruises. I feigned pride as I shared the story of being coerced into sex. I faked enjoyment while he treated me as an object of conquest, ignoring the nightmares, sickness, suicidal thoughts. I stood loyally by as he threatened my friends, my family, fought any young boy that noticed something may be wrong. I even cried when he left, moving on to a 17 year old girl who I later found out hit him back. I spent years trying to find the pride I once had in myself before meeting him. The pride that was stripped away further as I was assaulted by a decades older stranger in college, my new “best friend” telling me it was dramatic to call it rape. My high school “lover” found me then to make sure I knew so many girls like me were assaulted, to hide myself away so I couldn’t be raped, missing the irony of giving advice to hide from what he had already done to me. I’m not sure there was a word for what the next man, Name stole, as he turned our first date into a forever drive, going block to block, refusing to stop the car until I finally gave in and gave him what he wanted. I found the strength to refuse all the way to his bed, when he told me he would not drive me home until I was more sober, and casually slipped on a condom. Kind to consider protection in the midst of me making sure he knew I did not want it, asking if he understood I was saying no. Or maybe it was Name 2. The one who feigned friendship and kindness, all while screaming at my inability to orgasm without having a flashback to the men before him. Who cried and punched and flailed when I would not twist my trauma into something more palatable. Who led to my psychotic break and then pretended to save me from myself. Seeing the faces of strangers melt into all the men who had ever touched me led me to finding hope. A strange sentence about the scariest part of my life. It has been 10 years and I am about to get married. 10 years of trauma therapy. Of fighting strangers in dark bars who dared to even look at me. Of screaming flashbacks where my partner helps me remember who and where and why. Of clinging to life, just barely at times, but somehow still being alive today. I turn 30 next week. I have been assaulted more times than I can write. I have been made into an object, stripped of my strength for the convenience of small men. I am no longer small. I am not weak. I am not an object. I get married in 128 days. My partner goes to therapy with me. He knows the names of each person who has hurt me. He has held me and comforted me, he has lifted me up and helped me remember who I am. He is safe. He is love. I turn 30 next week. I wish I could say getting here was easy. It wasn’t. But I turn 30 next week and I’m happy. I am safe. I feel safe. I have a partner and friends and a dog and a fat cat. I have a home. I went through hell and I’m still here and it doesn’t hurt the same way it did anymore. That ache is now distant. Like a bruise rather than a gaping wound. I hope others that survive what I have can find a way to make it long enough to thrive. The suffering stops. You are not alone.

A few nights ago I went out clubbing with friends. I got way drunker than I had expected to, and when we arrived at the club I ran to the dancefloor while my friends finished checking their coats. A man started to try to dance with me and grab me, and before I had time to realize what was happening, I was being kissed. I was able to push him away and go find my friends but didn’t really process what had happened. The morning after, I felt really uneasy and unsettled by this experience. I don’t know if I would call it assault, but I think I still feel really violated that it happened. I was clearly way too drunk to have consented to the encounter and I’m upset that I now have this on my mind. I feel like I was taken advantage of by a stranger because I was too drunk to say no or resist. I just want to get over it and stop thinking about the experience but I feel like I’m burdened by the fact that this happened now.

Rain lashed the windowpane; each dropped a tiny hammer against the barricade of fear built within. Shadows danced on the walls, mocking echoes of pain – a symphony of abuse that had once seemed an endless melody. Hope, a fragile ember, flickered in the corner, barely clinging to survival. But a whisper carried on the storm's breath, dared to break through. "You are not alone." It was a lifeline thrown across the chasm of despair, a promise that shattered the illusion of isolation. Others had weathered this hurricane, and so could they. "Your experiences are valid." The words washed over them, a balm to wounds hidden in the shadows. The pain, the fear, the rage – they were real, a tapestry woven into the very fabric of their being. Denying them was no longer an option, only prolonging the storm. Hope, encouraged by the whisper, sought anchors. It found them in the warmth of a remembered smile, the unwavering support of a distant friend, the quiet understanding in a stranger's eyes. These threads of compassion, woven into a net of support, whispered, "Many care." Reaching out, a hand trembling against the storm, felt like stepping into the abyss. But the whisper urged, "Anyone you trust?" A counselor's gentle voice, a hotline's anonymous refuge, and a therapist's safe space were doors waiting to be opened. The voice on the other end, a lighthouse in the storm, offered a safe harbor. Tears, long dammed, finally flowed, washing away the dust of trauma. Each sob, a defiance against the storm, each breath, a testament to the will to survive. Healing wasn't a straight path, but a winding trail, bathed in both sunshine and rain. There were days when shadows crept back, whispering doubts and fear. But the whisper echoed, a constant reminder: "You are strong." Like a willow weathered by wind, yet unbroken, their spirit rose. Scars, etched on the soul, were not badges of shame, but maps of battles won. Standing on the precipice of a new dawn, the storm's fury seemed distant, a faded memory. The world once shrouded in darkness, now shimmered with possibility. The whisper, once a lifeline, became a roar: "You are not alone." And in the chorus of voices rising above the storm, they discovered the most profound whisper of all: "Forgive yourself." It was a revelation, a key unlocking a prison built within. Forgiveness, not of the abuser, but of themselves for carrying the weight of the past. It was a gentle release a letting go of the chains that had bound them to the storm. With this newfound freedom, they stepped into the sunshine. The scars remained, whispers of the storm, but they were no longer shackles. They were badges of courage, testaments to a spirit that had weathered the fiercest winds and emerged, not unscathed, but profoundly stronger, ready to embrace the world with open arms and a heart filled with hope.

I am 23 year old female . I grew up in a Caribbean household being the youngest child out of 3. My mom was a single mom caring for me , my older brother , & older sister. I was living in New York City till I was about 4 years old. There were some times when I was alone with my brother for even a bit of time like my sister being in another room. My brother would try to put his penis in my anal and it would hurt me. It was never the whole thing and it was always in doggy position. I would remember my butt being in pain for a few minutes then I was okay. I knew something wasn’t right about it. I knew it wasn’t normal especially since he hide and did it. I didn’t understand that much but I do recall telling . I remembering him saying he swears to God and stuff. I didn’t remember everything but I know he later was with his dad. But the next thing I know after that my family moved to GA. Me , my mom , & my sister. I was 5 now and was about to start kindergarten. I was doing okay and tried not to think about it. When I was about 9 my neighbor upstairs had a daughter my age and we became friends. We will call her Person 1 and she had a friend we will call Person 2 who was our age as well. All three of us all hung out and at my house or Person 1’s house. One day we all went to Dave and Busters with Person 1’s dad and Person 2’s big brother who was 13 we will call him Name. That was my first time seeing him. I thought he was cute but never even looked at him the wrong way I wasn’t fast. I thought every light or brown guy was cute. He was quiet. As time went on me and Name became close . His sister Person 2 and our friend Person 1 both were kinda mean at times and we would get into it and I would just isolate myself or they would isolate from me to be mean. Name seen they were gaining up on me sometimes and started being nice to me and hanging with me. He was very nice to me and smart . He taught me cool stuff and told me how smart I was. One day at the pool we were holding hands and going down in the water together then back up and I felt something hard touch my vagina and it kinda hurt. I realized when we got up it was his private area. Now being older I know it was his erect penis that developed while we were playing. He did hold me close to him and I could feel it a lot. I told him that I felt it on my private part and he said oh sorry very calm. Now I know that he knew what he was doing. Later on we all would be around eachother more and more. One day I was about to change out of my bathing suit when he knocked the door and said how his sister and Person 1 were just jealous and mad that I was really nice and smart and not to worry about them that he was there for me. I really cared about him because he was there for me even when I didn’t want to be around the other two. At their house he made sure I always ate he gave me extra if I wanted too. He would let me watch YouTube videos with him on his computer and let me play games with him. He let me be alone with him in his room but the door would always be open. He was my buddy my friend. Even though he was going on 14 and I was going on about 9 or 10 he was just an older kid to me and he understood me. He always complemented me, shared with me and made me feel special. One day we were alone and we started holding hands fingers all in between eachothers. We started hugging for a minute and I felt something was different with us. I felt like I had a secret crush on him but I also felt like he liked me too. later on another night he told me about sex and what a condom was. He showed me what it looked like too. He said I’m to young to do it but when I’m older I could . How it hurts for girls at first then feels good. He told me he had sex which meant he wasn’t a virgin. He explained what a Virgin was too. I didn’t know why or understood why he was telling me about it but I didn’t question him. One night all of us had a sleepover and we all were laying on Person 1’s dad huge king size bed watching movies. Person 1’s dad was knocked out on the couch and let us have his room. We had candy popcorn , juices etc. We all had our comfy pajamas on and was enjoying the night. Us girls always had sleep overs but this was our first time with Name. The apartment had 2 bedrooms and us girls would go play or talk in the second room which had a small twin size bed then go back to watch whatever movie we were watching. A scary movie came on and we all were watching and jumping like kids do. We all laid on our sides and faced the tv . Nobody was close to the next person since we all made space on the bed. I was closet to Name . He was behind me. The night was normal until he got behind me more and pulled me closer to him. The girls not noticing a thing. My butt my pressed on him and I could feel the hardness again. He started rubbing my stomach and lifting my shirt a bit then I pushed his hand. After a few minutes he grabbed my hand and stroked his penis with it for a short amount of time. I pulled my hand back in confusion. He got up close behind me again and put his hands in my pants I pushed his hand and he put his hand in my panties. I froze then turned around to face him and whispered “ I don’t want to do that!”. He nodded and after a few minutes I got up to go to the second room. Person 1’s father was still loud asleep. I went to the second room and curled up in the bed. The girls came after a bit and asked if I was okay I just said I didn’t feel too good they stayed with me for a while and went back. I couldn’t really sleep I had alot of thoughts in my head. I knew I didn’t want to go downstairs to my apartment and have to tell me mom and she breaks Name’s neck and I didn’t want to feel guilty. The morning came & we all ate I went back to my house and I avoided going outside whenever the girls were there. Especially if I looked out the window and saw Name was there too. I told a friend at school about how Name put my hand on his manhood and she stared flipping out asking me if I told someone and I said no. She then tried to pull me to go with her to a teacher saying “You have to tell someone! That’s molestation , that’s sexual molestation !!” She said. I quickly said I’m just playing and she asked are you sure then I said yes. She left it alone but I had fear in my eyes and heart. I didn’t know how serious what happened was until she said the name “molestation”. I couldn’t help but wonder what would he have done to me that night if I didn’t go to the next room. I was only in the fourth grade. I was no longer friends with Person 1 or Person 2 which meant no more Name. And my mom said we were moving to another city I had another fresh start. Fast forward to the 6th grade. My big brother well only brother came to stay with us. He was in his twenties and I was about 12. At this time I did kinda forget about what happened with him when I was so small. When you try to forget something for so long you can actually forget for long enough. You you block trauma out it’s like you didn’t have that memory anymore. I just hit puberty some months before he arrived . Like I said I trauma blocked what happened with him but everything came back to me at 12 when he was around me again because of a dream. But not my dream my sisters dream. She told me and my mom she had a dream that I was laying on the bed with him and she told me don’t even horse play with him or let him touch me any kind of way. I tucked my fear inside . Would he try to touch me again! Around the next year he started acting controlling. He started watching me a lot. He was mad if I wore a skirt or dress or leggings. He would be looking at my butt and say to me or my mom I couldn’t wear it. He would be upset about any boy I would talk to and try to get me in trouble but my mom would say “I should punish her for not being gay ?” He would try to go thru my phone or watch my every move on Facebook. He would pick me up and throw me on the bed and I would get mad and I started hitting him often. Every day when I came from school he would bother me and I just started disliking him a lot. One day he picked me up and threw me on the bed and before he could run I started beating on him and ripped his shirt. I didn’t want him there anymore. Later on I found out guys who act like how he was are usually giving signs of someone who has touched that particular person or wants to. They are usually obsessed and jealous acting. Especially if they they know you like some boy. As time went on I remembered I had a dream that he was on top of me basically doing me and I woke up and was in shock. I tried to keep distance. I always wondered if he ever felt sorry for what he did when k was younger? I did have a lil boyfriend and anytime he tried to touch me on my vagina I stopped him . At that point I didn’t want to be touched I was feeling the memories from my bro and Name creep up on me. I didn’t want to be touched until it was someone I trusted. At 19 I finally lost my virginity to my first real boyfriend. Someone I trusted. Fast forward to when I was 20 I left home for the first time and would cry alot because I had soooo much trauma built up from over the years. By then I almost got Sexually Assaulted 3 times. Once I’m high school by a boy I was talking to who was my neighbor when I was 15 , second when I was out of town with a friend and we double dated and my date was getting to carried away and I kept telling him to stop when I was 19. , third I was 19 still and I was an older guy who I went on a date with I cried very hard infront of him that I didn’t want to go through that anymore. I cried a lot the 8 months I was on my own. I was trying to become my own person and feel okay by myself. I had a very close friend who was an older female I remember we had a deep conversation one day and I told her about my brother when I was younger and she started crying a lot. She was so shocked especially at how strong I was. I never forget she told me “I was taken advantage off too but I told myself that I will take back my moment of my first time with someone I love and although it won’t be physically it’ll be emotionally”. I hated my family at that time and was wondering to myself that I wasn’t crazy and I did tell on him and did everyone try to just move him to his dads and us to GA to help me forget. Or did they really not help me at all because he still got to be around me. I started being so angry at my mom like why didn’t he get to never see me again. I wondered if my mom or grandma or sister forget what happened. Then I thought did I actually tell them what happened or did I imagine it? At 22 a close friend I had for about 3-4 years had took some advantage of me one night. I didn’t say I wanted to have sex but I didn’t say no . I didn’t really get to say anything and he pulled my pants down and was inside me already. I was trying to see if I was actually enjoying sex or was I in shock. I wasn’t really the same after that and it took me a year to get over . I cried and prayed about it and didn’t want to have any sex . I was celibate and didn’t want to ever talk about it I never spoke to him again even though he tried to reach out to me. I try to push the memory away well trauma block. I just hoped to God no male can ever lay hands on me in a wrongful way again. My mental health was sooo fucked uk over the years due to the constant sexual harassment I was going through. At 23 I’ve healed from every last experience and I completely cut off my brother . I don’t like him as a person and I love my niece who he created but I don’t love him at all. I don’t have a relationship with my brother or sister. Over the years they have both treated me poorly and I was over it and I’m completely healed. But I really hate him for what he did when I was younger. My brain gets fucked uk sometimes because I wonder if I really did tell on him it was I imagining it or did the family sweep it under the rug and think I forgot. One day when my niece gets older and asks why I don’t like her dad I can’t tell her the real reason. I want to ask my mom if I ever told her but I can’t make myself. I rather keep it with me to the grave. I’m just glad I don’t have to consider him my family anymore. As for family some of my cousins were creepy trying to come on to me and one of my uncles who lives with us now I hate him and thinks he’s a perv and creep. He stares at me too long and I want him to just fall over and get badly hurt. At my big age I shouldn’t feel creeped out by any perv. I avoid him at all costs. I’ve been praying he gets his disability money and leaves for good. Once he’s gone I won’t have any male in my life to make me upset or made. My mom told me she was sexually assaulted by a family member when she was younger which is more reason I want to keep my mouth shut. She doesn’t know about any of the things I won’t . I don’t want her to think she failed me. But going through therapy and finding love I my life I finally feel free writing this. I have a healthy relationship and sex life. Everything will be okay and if I try hard enough I’ll forget everything for good in time. I want to mentally start over and remove all the dad starting next year on my 24th birthday. I always remind myself that I’m a victim and shouldn’t beat myself up and God let me get out of each situation. God will continue to heal me . I and strong and will make sure to protect anyone who is also a victim of any kind of Sexual Assault.

I was 5 and my older cousin was 9. She was the favorite grandkid so when she began showing me “the game” I was too scared to be judged by my own family that I decided to take the pain. When people found out about it the case it was closed because she was a minor. It ended when I was 10 and she was 14, I deserve justice for my childhood being taken from me. The case has been looked down upon due to her being a minor and the fact that it was two girls but it caused major damage. I might not even be able to reproduce.. I am now in the process of learning about myself and what all i can do to be able to maybe have kids one day. I made it out though, little me would be so proud.

This isn’t about one incident but it’s happened so many times and how it’s android me feel. Today was hard for me my car battery died and I needed help, my youngest daughter crossed my boundaries again, and my ex did as he was supposed to helping me. I felt so ganged up in today as if I was being bullied. It seems as I sat here in my bed trying to process the day and feel what I’m feeling it hit me that it feels like hoe it feels to be raped, which is strange but almost everything seems to remind me of it. I have someone I care very much for but he goes silent on me and we don’t talk for a while and then he comes back like it’s all fine but it’s not. His silence triggers me greatly to a point where I get so triggered I couldn’t control it. I suppose i didn’t realize it was mimicking the silent treatment. My ex today when the car battery died I called a few people to help and finally got my sister. My ex forgot his jumper cables and I asked him to ask some people in the parking lot and he got mad and then went in the store and came out and said your gonna owe me for this in a frustrating loud tone. He wasn’t yelling but it felt like yelling and hurt my feelings I wanted to cry. He told me he has jumper cables and if he had to buy them I was gonna owe him. As I’m writing this parts of me feel like a fool or at least think I am for asking him for help. When I was 18 when got married when I was 17, he told me if I didn’t have sex with him he would rape me and well I was tired and said no I also had a headache which I just remembered and he did it. I am in Emdr therapy processing what happened and the memories are started to slowly surface. But also there are other incidents that happened that are also surfacing. There are parts I remember such as the man with glasses on top of me and Everytime I see the town mayor my stomach turns in knots. He was around me when I was little and the resemblance is so similar but I don’t know if it was him for sure and maybe I never will. My mom let men touch me and pushed guys onto to my ex. I never known in the way I should and I don’t really care for having sex. I’ve been healing and working through all this but in some ways I’m afraid of everything and anything can trigger those feelings again like today when my ex said I would owe him. I haven’t been feeling well and have been needing some help and I suppose I was isolated so much of my life I don’t have a support system. I don’t have family or friends to go too and anytime I try new support groups no one shows up and they can be too far to drive. My youngest daughter has bdp and well it’s hard to be around her and she constantly crosses any boundaries I have which seems to be a running theme in my life. If anything today showed me I was able to control my emotions without expressing them to the people that hurt me, I came back and journaled and ate chicken noodle soup, and took a hot shower to help with the somatic pains surfacing in my body and now I’m under the blanket holding a pillow writing this story. I’m not powerless I never was I’ve just been around crappy people my whole life and I will always have been raped and sexually abused but it doesn’t have to define me.

When I was a child, probably 4 or 5 years old, I started getting involved in sexual play with my female cousin who was 6 at the time, we rubbed our parts, she made me lick her tigh once, and other stuff that I cannot remember clearly, some of that felt good, but I remember discomfort if I refused, I think she hit me or hurt me if I did not want to play, generally speaking she used to beat me or pull my hair. Soon I searched on tv things that resembled the things we were doing, nothing explicit from what i can recall, things like sensual play between partners in movies, people making love, etc, I was ashamed at the time and hid this behaviour from my parents, i dont remember when it stopped but i remember the shame and fear that it would happen again, specifically one time when we were older and playing and she pinned me to the bed, i got nauseus, fortunately by that time I was strong enough to take her off me. I dont know if this was abuse, but certainly shame and guilt never went away while I was a child, even on my first communion I remember wanting to tell the priest this story in my confession but stopping myself because felt it was too much. I was 10 by that time. I dont blame my cousin and i really like her. I hadnt visited this memories till six months ago while watching " the perks of being a wallflower" where the main caracther is abused by his auntie and while remembering this I wonder if my sexual behaviors (huge shame, guilt and incapability to relax) now are influenced by this experience.

I met name on Tinder at the end of February 2022. A week later I went over to his to talk but he kept making requests for me to perform oral sex on him I kept telling him I wasn't ready and I haven't done it before. When I stopped during it he slapped me across my face and got angry because he said "once you start you can't stop". I was traumatised when he orgasmed into my mouth and I couldn't process what just happened. He then said he didn't believe me when I said NO and that I shouldn't use the word rape because his neighbours could hear and he could get arrested. He showed no remorse and that made me feel even worse so I ended up apologising to him. The following time we met at his apartment we were cuddling and he kept asking for oral sex and said "just do it and get it over with because I am not gonna stop... you're making it difficult". The more times I said NO the angrier his voice got, and he said " you should want to make me feel good... do it or get the **** away from me". He would also threaten to throw me out of his apartment past midnight and I was too scared to walk home that time. I would usually end up following his demands even though I felt my boundaries being violated each time, worse of all when I told him how he made me felt he would say "I don't give a **** and **** off". When it came to sex I felt pressurised to say Yes and when I came to his apartment I told him I wasn't ready. At first he tried taking off my clothes, I was scared and he said " let it happen" I kept saying NO even with all my clothes off. He got really frustrated because I wanted to put my clothes back on and so he said " if you're not gonna **** me get the **** out... if you're not gonna **** me then why did you act like you were". I wanted to cry but instead I apologised. When we first started to have sex it was way too painful for me I kept bleeding and telling name I'm in pain, can we stop please? repeatedly. He would either say NO when I moved away from him, he kept getting angry and said " stop saying that it's not stimulating for me". I kept saying NO to which he replied "I don't care, I just wanna have sex." From that I remember seeing blood drip down to my legs. One time I tried moving away from him during sex so he slapped my face, hit my back and said "I nearly got it in" in frustration. I fell onto the bed. Following things he would say was that I am working against him during sex because I wasn't letting him properly penetrate me, " You should enjoy it, other girls would enjoy it... you don't even like sex".

He was my friend. More than a friend — he was my brother. He knew what I'd been through, and he still tried to hurt me. He played it off like it was a joke, and now he's upset that I said I would never feel safe around him again. I don't feel safe in my own skin anymore. I have to see him for one more year before I graduate, but I have to live with what he did for the rest of my life. I hope the guilt eats him alive.

Confession / Personal Struggle I want to open up about my past and the things I've struggled with, because I know I need help and healing. These are the hardest parts of my life to admit: 1. My upbringing and faith * I was born into a Christian home, but I never really understood Christ personally. * As a child, I prayed mostly because I was told to, and often for selfish reasons (wanting things like money, a phone, a car for my mom, etc.), not out of true love for God. * Now, I feel disconnected from Christ, and I believe my past and my habits are blocking me from truly knowing Him. 2. Childhood experiences * In primary school (around Primary 3-5 and
JSS1), I was involved in homosexual activities with other boys. * Around age 9-10, one of my cousins, who was living with us after his father died, and I crossed a line. I pointed to his private part * * while learning Igbo words, and it led to something happening between us. * • I felt guilty and told my parents, but nothing was really done. He continued living with us, and that left me confused and hurt. * 3. Growing up with rejection * As I grew, I started to like girls, but I felt rejected many times. * That rejection, combined with my earlier experiences, made me feel timid and small. It also made me start to have sexual thoughts toward boys — not out of love, but only sexually. 4. Porn and masturbation * I was introduced to porn by one of my dad's boys who lived with us. * In SS2 (2019), I started masturbating and have struggled with it since then. It became an addiction. * I told my parents and aunties at different times, especially after I failed 100 level in university, because I blamed my failure on masturbation. They advised me, but the habit didn't stop. At best, I could stop for only about a week. 5. Something I deeply regret * After we moved to a new house, I pressured my neighbor's son into massaging my private parts. At first, he refused because it was wrong, but l insisted several times until he agreed. * This happened around 9-10 times. I would release, then apologize to him, blaming the devil. * I now realize I did to him something similar to what my cousin did to me, and I feel very ashamed of it. This is one of the deepest regrets of my life. 6. Where l am now * I am 20 years old and still struggling with masturbation and porn. * I feel it is reducing my potential and keeping me far from God. * I feel guilty, numb, and tired, even though I know I have many emotions inside me. * I want to change, heal, and draw closer to Christ. Why l'm sharing this I want to confess these things because I don't want to hide anymore. I know my past is heavy, but I also know I need guidance, prayer, and counseling. I believe talking about it openly with someone I can trust is the first step to freedom.

I married someone who was safer than my home life, but not safe overall. It wasn’t until some maturing kicked in until I realize I was with another abuser. I married a habitual boundary crosser, then I had a baby with my rapist, then I stayed after rape 2, then I stayed after bruise 1. These are all the same person. I wish I made myself safe before seeking safety in someone else. I wish I waited for my brain to set at 25-ish. I wish I didn’t let him convince me that rape 1 was a misunderstanding. I wish I wasn’t financially trapped. I wish the world payed woman to raise their own children versus paying women a different job to pay someone else to do so. I wish men would take the time to get to know and love women, the way we deserve to be loved, instead they trick, abuse, and mock us. I wish I could put in jail, but I cannot be responsible for putting my sons father in jail. He doesn’t deserve to be that kid because I was too ignorant. But most of all, I wish he was the person he convinced me he was, because I’d be happy, my cup would be filled, I wouldn’t be drained, I would be content, I wouldn’t be in survival mode, we’d get to stay a family. As for now, all I have is playing house until my exist plan is ready. Thank you for reading.

When my dad remarried after my mom I had no idea he was even seeing someone. They got married so quickly that my brother and I (m) never got a chance to know her or her kids. I was 7 or 8 at the time and my step brother- who was around 12 or so and I had to share a room. Everything started a few months after he had moved in. First it started by him masterbating in front of me and inviting me into his bed and it escalated from there. He then started to have me give him oral and and to "play with him" as he said then one day before church he tried to have anal sex with me. I didn't tell anyone this until 2021 when I was 22. For so long I didn't realize or understand why it happened or even that it was sexual assault and when I did I sobbed and ugly cried all day. Being gay this is seen as normal and highly expected. Along the same lines as a younger man hooking up with an older woman. I subconsciously was exploring and trying to understand why he had made me do those things with him and in the process I ended up hurting myself even more and possibly a few others along the way. I still wonder how my life would've been different had I not have to go through that experience. Would I still be gay, would I still be hiv positive? Would I have abetter relationship with drugs and alcohol be better? Would my relationship with men be different?

i just want proof that this feeling isn’t going to be forever. his hands are burned into me and i chose to not remebr but my body forces me too and it’s so crippling and scary

I don't know how to start, it's just I am having pms rn and I can't help but feel disgusted. It was my cousin brother. We have been close since childhood. We used to do all kinds of things that you would usually do with your brother. I used to live far, I with my fam used to visit their fam. I still remember the last conversation we had when I last visited him before covid, we were talking about him getting a gf and Me getting a bf just normal conversation. After covid, in 2022 I moved. It was near where he lived. He came to stay naturally, just like we would hang out daily and eat out and had fun. One day, I was laying down with him. All the days, he stayed with us. I used to sleep with him in the same bed. But that it was a nightmare. Out of nowhere he started putting his hand on my stomach. He started touching me over my underwear and in between my thighs. I froze on place. I couldn't think anything I was begging God please don't let him go further. He was trying to open my underwear and touching around it. I pulled away his hand. He still brought it again in between my thighs. Then after sometime he stopped. I continued sleeping there..ik it was the dumbest thing but yk how it is, you freeze in a place, you can't think right. I didn't shout or anything. I was just stunned and didn't know anything that I could do then. Next day, I woke up I literally felt it was a dream but I had a clear memory. Very clear memory Long time, it felt like I was at fault.. for sleeping in bed with him, for not shouting, for not reacting enough, for never speaking up about it to me. I was just disgusted and decided to talk to my friends. They made me understand it's not me, it was him. It was not something he could do without any intention. Its been 3 years, only my closest friends know, my parents don't know. I don't know whether he remembers it or not. It doesn't matter. It was something so disgusting and it stays with till today. It doesn't matter what he thinks. I stay away from him and made sure to never have a good connection with him ever after that. He once blackmailed me with something I didn't know. He just randomly started telling me he knows what I did. And called one of his friend saying that I will give 500 rupees and you give me that thing. I don't even know what it was about. But he is the most disgusting person to ever exist. His idea about woman disgusts me and how he keeps his gf too. I wish the old me would have done something then But I am so glad I understand myself more than anything and bring that up will only cause harm in my slowly healing life

In March, I met someone. By summer, we were friends—the kind that share meals and watch anime on weekends. There was never any hint of more. Then, one night in August, a bottle of bourbon and a game of truth or dare blurred the lines I thought were solid. The conversation turned intimate, and the dares followed. What started with a kiss escalated into something I did not want. I remember saying "no," many times, my hands holding tightly to my clothes as a boundary. I was told "no means yes." In my intoxicated state, my resistance was overcome. I held onto one clear thought: no penetration. That line, at least, was not crossed. In the days that followed, I did everything I was supposed to do. I reached for every lifeline. I took the emergency pill. I made the calls to 1800RESPECT and SARC, navigating support systems in a language that isn't my own. I am awaiting medical screenings. I devoured Chanel Miller's "Know My Name," finding solace in a story that mirrored my own confusion. I talked to AI, tirelessly analyzing every emotion, trying to logic my way out of this pain. I found the courage to call a friend and speak the words aloud, and her belief in me was a anchor. And yet, a persistent voice still circles in the quiet moments: Did I overreact? Was it really that bad? He was nice once. This doubt is a ghost, and it haunts me alongside the heavy grip of my history with depression, which makes everything feel so much heavier. I have made a decision that brings both a sense of relief and a profound sadness. I will likely make a report, but I do not think I will request a full investigation. I have come to the quiet, painful understanding of how difficult it is to prove a violation without concrete evidence, of how the system often fails to deliver justice. My heart breaks for all my sisters who have stood in this same place, who have chosen to prioritize their own survival over a fight they know they cannot win. So, for now, I am choosing to fight for myself instead of against him. My act of rebellion is not in a courtroom; it is in my own healing. It is in believing myself when the world teaches me to doubt. It is in acknowledging that even without legal justice, what happened to me was real, it was wrong, and my pain is valid. I am choosing to care for the person who matters most in this story: me.